Cause and Effect
My birthday was this month: Sunday, October 10. Yep, 10-10-10. Pretty cool. To celebrate, my dear friend Robin kidnapped me and we went to Oklahoma City to have dinner at 105degrees, the vegan raw food restaurant I wrote about in Purely Delicious magazine last spring. It was a divine weekend of shopping, great raw food and 16 hours of “just us” time in the car.
When I got back, I was sick as a dog and only now am I feeling like I am back to normal. There’s a reason why.
In addition to the fabulous raw food, I also ate some things that have not been on my personal menu for a long, long time. I’m not sure why I did it. I can’t blame Robin—she’s a healthy eater herself—but we both succumbed to scarfing down (I am embarrassed to even write this but here goes) gas station food, among other things. Yes, gas station food. I had Bugles, Funyons, potato chips, popcorn and even some bad coffee (with sugar, just to make it passable). In Oklahoma City I had chips and salsa and a (gigantic) margarita. We drank wine at every meal except breakfast. I even had a latte on Sunday morning to top it off. At the time everything seemed OK, but on Monday morning—in addition to being rather “stopped up”—I had a horrific sore throat which evolved into a cold with a lot of mucous and a raging headache. I felt like I was going to die: it was probably the worst—heck, maybe the only—cold I have had in five years.
And now for the unexpected part: I am really sort of glad it happened. Not that I liked being sick (I hated it), but it reminded me of some things I had begun to take for granted. Like, how good it feels to feel good. And the connection between cause and effect, especially when it comes to what you eat. And that Bugles don’t taste nearly as good as the memory I have of them.
My crappy food choices were undoubtedly rooted in emotional eating patterns. My sojourn with Robin felt very much like the “road trips” my friends and I used to take in college. Fueled on junk food and coffee, we’d drive 12 hours at the drop of a hat to go hear a band or visit a friend in another state. The car would be filled with nonstop chatter, and the trip would only be interrupted by stops for more food or our frequent pee breaks. Climbing into the car with Robin Friday morning felt like those days again, and I fell into the pattern of eating junk food at a rate nearing the speed limit on the interstate. Forget the fact that my college days were three decades ago: I hadn’t lost the touch.
Anyway, I am back in the saddle again, after two weeks of buckling down to lots of green juices and a colon hydrotherapy session.
I think next year we need to fly somewhere instead of drive.